To See
by GypsyFilmGirl
Summary: So you know Bella's story, but do you know mine? / Alice Cullen's story that leads up to the ultimate happenings of the Twilight Saga and beyond, [Disclaimer: the cover image for this document is not mine, and credit is dedicated to its creator]


**_AN: Hello! So I wanted to give a tiny backstory to this backstory. I wrote this when I was in high school in 2008. It was my first attempt at writing, it was something I was trying during a phase (a Twilight phase) and a time in my life that I was utterly completely lost because I was at my wits' end with peers and their treatment towards me and others. And instead of trying to fix it, I always confided in pen and paper. I loved the Twilight series for the books and characters. I wasn't a fan of Bella and Edward, but the others. Most people saw the family and went back to paying attention to the two main characters, but I decided that I wanted to indulge in their backstories. So I started a collection of fanfiction backstories. My two favorites that I nursed through high school have recently resurfaced, and since they have such sentimental value to me, I wanted to post them to share. I won't lie: I didn't post this directly from how I wrote it originally. I wasn't horrible, but this is my seventh year to be writing. I've learned some things! So yes, it is edited some. The plot is the same, though. I was a little proud of myself for that. [smug grin] I do have a Rosalie that I want to post soon, but this will make my fifth unfinished fanfiction (that isn't on hiatus) that I want to publish. I want to complete one before I start another, but if you're a writer, you know this is probably not possible. ;) So please, take a few to start on this work that is my first-ever fanfiction and tell me what you think! Thank you for reading!_**

I sat up, my head pounding with the noises of the place I was captured in. Moaning, crying, mindless jabber all filled my ears. It was loud and I felt like I could feel the soundwaves crashing against my head with the wail of the woman somewhere down the hall. Darkness cloaked the room, but just enough light filtered through the bars across the window that I could see the peephole of my door. It was shut with a slate, but people were shuffling around outside. I called out to them, hoping that they would let me out.

"Shut up!" A bang sounded against the door and it was obvious I was, in fact, meant to be here. For whatever reason. I looked down at the clothes I was in. By the pale light I could see it rivaled hospital garments, thin and unbecoming. My shoes were flung against a wall instead of on my feet and my hair was chopped to hell and back. I found the blanket from the bed made into the wall and wound myself in it, trying to decide what I was going to do. Was I in jail? An asylum? Nothing rang out to me as to why I was here. I felt dreadfully betrayed, too. Why would I be here? I wasn't crazy. Was I? I didn't think so, personally. I heard a door slam shut, and the dragging feet were gone.

After so long, I started prying through my room. For what, I didn't know. I was hoping for a miracle, I suppose. I found nothing, though, but a bed, a blanket, a pillow, and the shoes that weren't going back on my feet if I had anything to say about it. I went over to the door to investigate. It was steel and had no handle. It swung shut from the inside, so there was no prying it open. I huffed and slapped my hand against the wall in frustration. I watched as a piece of plaster fell from where my hand had landed. Was that place this rotten or was I just strong? I laughed. I was going to rot inside this place. I plopped down on the bed, winding myself up in the blanket, and the room went dark again. I tried to see, but not even a ray from the outside shown through. There was nothing. But then I /did/ see. It was if I were in another world. There was still no sun, but I wasn't in the jail. I was cold, my feet still bare. I could feel concrete against the soles, and it was chilling. Lights poured from the ceiling of a building, and I was standing in the middle of god and everybody, still draped in the blanket I was buried in now. Someone took my hand. I felt a flutter of panic, but it quickly subsided. By now I was sure I was dreaming. Or I was awaking from a dream one. Some golden-haired man with eyes as red as anything I'd ever seen was in front of me. I said something, but I didn't catch it. I was slightly confused at the sight of this man. He bowed and kissed my hand.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," rolled off his tongue in some dialect that was beyond gorgeous and alluring. But before I could say another word, I was thrown back into the darkness of this room, with its moonlight illumination and wails of manic despair. I wanted out. I wasn't meant to be here. I flung my blanket away and sprung towards the door, pounding a fist against it. It was solid, heavy. In one swing, I missed the door and my fist contacted with the wall. I didn't really notice until plaster and cement flew into my mouth. I spat it out, realizing that I'd actually knocked a hole into a wall with my fist. I stuck my head out, looking each way. No guards. No anyone. So I did what I knew could save me.

I ran.


End file.
